


Welcome Changes Ahead

by sara_bocchan (LittleSara)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Year's Day, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSara/pseuds/sara_bocchan
Summary: Arthur gets home late after celebrating into the New Year. He finds a homeless stranger hiding in his porch, and – drunk as he is – decides to let him stay in his guest room for the night. Over the next day Arthur slowly gets to know the man, Merlin, and chooses to help him as much as he can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** “Arthur/Merlin – Merlin is a run away, that ends up choosing Arthur's porch as a spot for to shelter from the New Years's Eve weather. Arthur, getting home late hides him and decides he needs to help.” (Link)
> 
>  **Notes:** First of all: A _huge_ thanks to Momo for being such an awesome beta! This fic wouldn't even be half as good as it is, without your help!  <3 Secondly: I didn’t go with the prompt 100% (Merlin not being a run away per say and by that probably a lot older than intended), and I’m so sorry about that! I hope the prompt-writer still likes the result! What I wrote was my first inspiration from reading the prompt and I just couldn’t help sticking to it. >//<

Arthur jolted awake when the cab stopped abruptly. He blinked in confusion and looked around. He sat on the rear bench behind the passenger seat. In his hands he held his scarf and mittens – or rather clung to them in a death-grip. His sleep-hazed mind replayed how Morgana had told him (multiple times) to not leave anything behind in the cab and he started looking around again to make sure she wouldn't have a reason to scold him later.

There was nothing else beside him on the seat. Good. Raising his eyes he noticed the fogged window. On the outside it seemed to be frozen over and Arthur shivered at the thought of getting outside. Although, it wasn't all that warm inside the car either.

An annoyed cough from the front caught his attention and he turned his head to look at the driver. He had turned sideways in his seat and looked back at Arthur with one raised eyebrow. Arthur's mind suddenly caught up to where he was and he smiled in a dopey fashion.

Right. He had finally managed to get a drive home, after celebrating into the New Year with his friends and sister. And alcohol. _Loooots_ of alcohol.

He let go of his scarf and mittens to instead fish out his money and pay the driver. In rather uncoordinated motions he pulled out his wallet from his inner coat pocket and – after two unsuccessful attempts to get out his credit card on his own – he just held the whole thing out to the driver. He was too tired and dazed to care about possible consequences.

With a stern look the cab driver took the wallet from Arthur, pulled out a card, and asked: “This the right one, mate?”

Arthur blinked in an attempt to focus, and leant forward to take a closer look. He scowled at the card for a long moment before he grinned lopsided, and replied: “Yup!”

Arthur couldn't help but giggle at his lack of propriety. He simply didn't care – and it felt great! He hadn't gotten this wasted in years. It was a miracle he hadn't thrown up, really. Or maybe it wasn't? Arthur still wasn't sure that his friends hadn't made sure he only drank water after some time. He vaguely recalled Gwen and Lance pushing drinks at him that tasted nothing like Gin Tonic for the last two hours…

All of a sudden Arthur remembered something that seemed super important, and sobered up a bit. “Oh, tip! Tip yo'self. 's rude not to!” Arthur nodded vigorously. He also tried to point a warning finger at the driver but his arm wouldn't hold still the way he wanted it to. He focused really hard on holding his arm still – glaring at it in concentration.

“Right, mate,” was all the driver replied, and turned back around towards Arthur.

When had he even been looking away? Arthur couldn't recall, and got confused again. The driver held up Arthur's wallet and put the credit card back inside as well as a receipt. He said something as well, but Arthur couldn't manage to focus on what he saw and heard at the same time. He nodded in a slow movement anyway – because apparently that's what was expected from him – and took the wallet back.

He put it into his inner coat pocket and was proud when he succeeded after only two tries. Then he clutched his scarf again and looked back out of the window. He could make out the familiar front of his and his neighbours’ houses. After a moment he also noticed the increasing snowfall, and scowled.

When he didn't get up after another long moment and just stared unblinking out of the window, the driver said: “You should get out, yeah? Get home and catch some sleep, mate.”

Right, he was home. Arthur repeated that out loud a few more times, slurring worse every time, and opened the car door. He smiled to himself when he managed to do so on the first try but frowned again, when he tried to get up and his legs wouldn't move the way he told them to.

Grumbling to himself, he fumbled almost a whole minute until he managed to stand outside the cab. In the process, Arthur dropped the scarf once, and one of the mittens twice before he decided to just put both on properly – or, well, as properly as he could in his hazy state.

He leant with most of his body on the door, before he suddenly felt the need to show composure, and straightened up. Which wasn't the best idea, in hindsight, because he almost slipped on the thick ice patch below his feet. Luckily he managed to grab the opened door in time and straightened again in a much slower movement. In addition, this gave him the adrenaline he needed to think a bit clearer – at least for the moment. Nodding to himself he took an unsteady step back from the cab – this time careful to not slip on the icy ground.

“Thanks, mate!” he shouted into the cab, before slamming the door shut. After a short moment, he turned around and walked up towards his front door with careful steps. He swayed in a dangerous manner and almost fell a few more times, but somehow, magically, he reached his goal without any injuries.

His breathing was heavy and he felt like he'd walked way more than 10 meters. Arthur slumped against the outer door of his porch as soon as he reached it. He needed a moment to control his swimming view before moving on.

Behind him he could hear the cab driving off, and thereby a calming silence settled in around him. If he concentrated, he could hear the snow falling quietly around him. From somewhere below, the soft rumbling of the heating from his basement sounded, and occasionally there were stray fireworks going off somewhere far away.

Arthur took one last, deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside the porch. He searched his coat pockets for the keys and pulled them out, making a sound of triumph.

A startled shuffle and barely suppressed squeak sounded from his right, and, with a yelp, Arthur dropped his keys. It was too dark to see anything clearly inside the porch, but somehow it looked like there was a lumpy bag in the inner corner leaning onto the wall. Arthur was sure the porch should be completely empty. He had put everything inside mid November. He remembered that much – even in his current state.

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion he fumbled for the light switch next to the door. He couldn't find it and grumbled to himself. When he finally managed to turn on the light, it was so bright he had to close his eyes and flinch away. Considering the displeased sound from the corner of his porch he wasn't the only one disliking the sudden brightness.

Blinking slowly he took a proper look at the lumpy bag in his porch. And the man attached to it.

Said man looked back at him with an unreadable expression. He clung to his backpack in desperation, but else didn't move at all. He was wrapped into a thick coat, or maybe multiple thinner ones, considering there were three different hoods wrapped over his head. Below the hoods was an additional beanie. A colourful wool-scarf was wrapped tightly around the lower half of his face, and a dark, unruly beard peaked out over it. The backpack in the stranger's arms was rather big and looked as if it was packed to bursting. There was a washed out rainbow-unicorn-sticker attached to it but else it seemed to be newly bought.

On top of that there was a hole in the man's left boot big enough so Arthur could make out the purple sock inside. He stared at the hole almost a whole minute until he looked back at his face.

He continued to just stand there staring at the stranger in apparent confusion, even tilting his head ever so slightly to the left.

“Whatcha doin' in here?” Arthur asked.

The man didn't react at all. Even when Arthur repeated the question: No reaction. He considered for a moment to ignore the whole thing – thinking it might just be his alcohol dosed mind playing tricks on him, when he noticed something: The man was shivering. He was shivering hard enough that even Arthur with his blurred vision noticed.

At the same time he realised how cold it actually was, and that – in fact – he was shivering himself.

Arthur looked down at the keys next to his feet, and back at the stranger. He blinked at the man, and the other blinked back. Arthur looked back down at the keys with a sheepish grin on his face.

Apparently non-verbal communication worked better, or maybe Arthur had just slurred too much. He didn't care now, since the man leant forward in slow movements and crouched towards Arthur – not letting go of his bag even in the slightest. When he was close enough to reach the keys he looked up at Arthur in question. He just nodded and smiled as brightly as possible in his current state.

This man might be a stranger but he was a good mate, Arthur decided for himself. He thought about asking for his name – since calling him “porch-man” sounded rather ridiculous – but got himself distracted again. He realised it would be easier for porch-man to unlock the door, if he stood back a bit more. By now Arthur wasn't even concerned about a stranger in his porch helping him into his house. In the middle of the god-damn night, on New Years Eve, no less. Or well, technically New Years Day, since it was way past midnight by now – somewhere around six in the morning, Arthur guessed.

Arthur took an unsteady step back, startling the other man. Porch-man had picked up the keys and now clutched them to his backback in surprise. Arthur just giggled once again. Porch-man's scarf had slipped down enough to reveal his mouth, and the face he was currently making at Arthur was just hilarious.

He said something along that line, causing the other to relax and stand up in stiff movements.

“That one,” Arthur said and pointed at the whole ring of keys. Porch-man huffed in amusement and shook his head, before trying key after key with shaking hands. Arthur continued to correct him by repeating “Nooooo, tha' one” but fortunately it took only four tries to get the right one.

At once a rush of warm air hit Arthur's face and he sighed in content. He pushed off the door frame – when had he started leaning against it? – and stumbled inside. Porch-man just got pushed along into the house and squeaked in protest. But Arthur wasn't having any of it. He kicked the door shut, and leant against it. Then he fumbled for the light switches, and turned on the one inside, and the other one off – hopefully.

“No, no, no! Let me out, you prat!” the man protested, and surprised Arthur with his deep voice. Porch-man didn't move any closer though and instead looked around frantically.

“Oooh, so you _can_ talk,” Arthur replied with a smile and didn't get at all why the other seemed so distressed all of a sudden. It was so nice and warm inside! The man had been freezing outside and obviously needed a place to stay for the night.

Making up his mind, Arthur nodded to himself and pushed off the door. He pulled the mittens and scarf off, before continuing to open the buttons on his coat clumsily while saying: “No shoes inside. Take 'em off.”

After a short pause – and no reaction from porch-man – he added “pleeease”, smiling wide. Then he focused back on undoing his buttons and getting the coat off. He let it fall to the floor, and dropped down as well to take off his shoes.

Porch-man was eyeing him with suspicion the whole time. When Arthur was almost done taking off his second shoe – and had half forgotten about his visitor already – porch-man asked in a quiet and uneven voice: “What do you want from me? Please, I'll look for somewhere else to stay, just...let me out, yeah?”

Confused and a bit startled, Arthur looked up at him. He blinked a few times before he remembered what was going on. He pouted.

“No! No outside's too cold!” Arthur protested in a too loud voice he didn't care to level down. “You helped me. So, you're my gues' now,” he added and made wide movements with his hands to emphasise the importance of what he explained, “You sleep in ‘e guest room. 's where gues' sleep.”

Arthur slurred way more than he liked, despite trying his best to talk normal. He wasn't sure if porch-man understood him, and was about to repeat himself, when he bent down and pulled off his boots.

Arthur couldn't help but stare at the hideous purple sock again, now that it was completely revealed. The one on his other foot was black and grey striped, and, if possible, even more hideous.

Tousling up his hair in confusion, Arthur pulled off his second shoe and looked up again. His vision was swimming more than before, and he could already feel the upcoming headache. He pouted again, and wordlessly held up both hands to be pulled up.

Porch-man rolled his eyes, but helped him up nonetheless. Arthur also noticed that he wore his backpack properly on his back now, and had opened two of his jackets. While Arthur was wondering how many layers one person could wear, he got pulled along towards the stairs.

For a second he considered sleeping on the couch so he wouldn't have to climb the stairs, but then he remembered he had company, and a helping hand. He was leaning heavily on the other man by the time they reached the staircase – and somehow through his dazed and sleepy mind he still noticed porch-man's discomfort from the close proximity. Arthur, in response, tried to pull away and walk on his own, but that only resulted in him almost toppling backwards down the few steps they had climbed so far. Porch-man had to pull him closer again to prevent the worst and Arthur ended up leaning even heavier on him.

“Sorry... sorry, 'm tired,” he apologised. Porch-man was his guest, after all. He didn't want him to be uncomfortable. He voiced as much – or tried to at least before he suddenly remembered the last time he was in a similar situation and uncontrollable giggles rocked his body. Arthur didn't even notice the annoyed huff and grumble from the other man, and just went into retelling the memory that had come up.  
“Las' time I was sloshed too, an' Gwaine just' kept laughin'. Bastard. Nice hair tho.” Arthur stopped talking with his mouth still open, and frowned. “Wha' was I sayin?”

Arthur looked up at porch-man who just looked back unamused for a moment. Then he pulled on Arthur’s arm again and made him continue his way upstairs. They were already half way there, Arthur noticed happily.

“Oh righ'!” he continued after two more steps, and tumbled forwards before being pulled up straight again. “Las' time no one helped me. Oh no. 's good you're here now.” Arthur nodded vigorously and flailed his free arm around. He couldn't recall when porch-man had secured Arthur's other arm over his shoulder. It helped a lot with keeping him upright, and Arthur was all the more glad to have such competent help.  
“Las' time tho, I crawled,” Arthur continued, “Got down on hands 'n knees an' _crawled!_ So drunk. Stairs were comfy tho. Nice bed.” Arthur giggled again, remembering Morgana's face when she found him there a few hours later. In hindsight it was hilarious. He couldn't remember why he was so embarrassed about that particular memory all the time.

Porch-man didn't reply but Arthur was sure he saw a smile on his face for a short moment.

As soon as they were on the first floor he leant Arthur against the wall and took a step back. Arthur smiled at the man in thanks and pointed towards the guest room on the right: “'s your room.” After that he pointed at the door next to it (“Loo.”), and finally to the door on the other end of the corridor (“Bedroom.”).

After a short moment during which neither of them moved he nodded to himself one final time and pushed of the wall to walk to his room. He was still unsteady but somehow managed on his own – although porch-man stayed close by to make sure he didn't fall. Arthur was grateful for all the help and hoped he would remember to thank him in a proper way later – after he had slept off the alcohol.

He pushed open the door to his room and didn't even bother to turn on the light. He just stumbled towards his bed and dropped down face first. He sighed contently and was all ready to just fall asleep like that when he noticed a blanket being placed over him. He smiled to himself and turned his head towards were he thought porch-man stood.

“G’night,” he slurred in a bare whisper before drifting off.

 

~*~

 

Arthur woke up to bright light shining on his face. He buried himself further into a pillow to block out some light, but couldn't breathe properly like that.

Sighing, he rolled over onto his back and blinked his eyes open. Everything was way too bright, and Arthur could feel last night's headache resurface. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes in slow movements before turning his head to look at his alarm clock.

It read 09:34 in dim red light, and Arthur groaned. He didn't know when exactly he'd arrived home, but it couldn't have been more than three hours ago.

He turned his head to look at the window and winced at the brightness. Outside the sun was shining in full force. The thick layer of snow reflecting the light didn't help either.

With another unhappy groan, Arthur sat up and buried his face in his hands. His headache was slowly getting worse and he knew he wouldn't get any more sleep any time soon. He also knew, that he should take some painkillers rather sooner than later, and that getting up was inevitable.

Accordingly, he pushed the blanket off and moved his legs over the edge of the bed. Tousling up his hair with one hand and supporting himself with the other, he pushed up into a standing position. He stayed motionless for a long moment with closed eyes, and taking deep breaths to fight the nausea.

When he felt safe to walk on, he did so in slow, careful steps until he reached his door and stopped abruptly. He couldn't recall closing it, and that's when he _remembered._

Arthur buried his face in his hands again, shaking his head slowly. How out of it had he been?! And, oh my god, he'd not only let a stranger into his house, it was a homeless stranger at that!

Weirdly enough – Arthur noticed – he wasn't even concerned about his belongings. Sure, this man could have stolen some of his stuff and ran off without further ado, but somehow he couldn't see this man as someone who'd steal. But then again, he didn't seem like the stereotypical homeless person, despite the appearance. The way he had acted, and that look in his eyes… something about it felt off to Arthur.

To be fair though, he was heavily hungover and had way too little sleep.

Shaking his head once again, he pushed the door open and walked into the upstairs corridor. The door to the guest room was only halfway closed and there was a quiet shuffle and rustling of fabric audible.

Arthur was unsure what to do and how to approach his “guest”. He wasn't awake enough to feel embarrassed about his behaviour earlier but, sure enough, he knew that he should be.

He chose to ignore porch-man for now, and focused on getting to the bathroom instead. Arthur had a medicine cabinet in there, and to get this headache to subside should be his main goal at the moment. He could face everything else afterwards.

Opening the door to the bathroom, a thick wall of hot steam hit him, and Arthur startled. The smell of his shampoo was heavy in the air and there was a used towel on the floor, partly covering some discarded clothes he vaguely recognised as porch-man's.

Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind himself and carefully stepped over the small pile of clothes on the floor to get to the window at the other side of the room. The window was only cracked and Arthur opened it all the way to get rid of the steam more quickly. Then, he faced the sink and the medicine cabinet next to it. He opened it and scanned the different bottles and boxes until he found the right one. He got himself two pills, hoping it would be enough. After popping them into his mouth, Arthur bent over the sink and turned it on. He cupped both hands to catch some water, and then drank it right out of his hands. After drinking a bit more he washed his face with some of the lukewarm water, and finally turned off the tap.

He looked at his own reflection in the mirror and was glad it was still too fogged for the most part. At the moment Arthur didn’t care much about his general appearance anyway. A shower would be postponed to later in the day, too. He did, however, care about the bad taste in his mouth.

With a sigh, Arthur grabbed his toothbrush, filled a cup with warm water and lay the brush on top. He fumbled with the almost empty tube of toothpaste until he managed to press a small amount onto the brush. There was already a new one in the cupboard below the sink, but Arthur refused to throw the old one away before it was _completely_ empty.

While brushing his teeth in slow motions – interrupted by yawning a few times – he walked over to the opened window and looked outside. It was a bit chilly but since he was still wearing his warm clothes from last night, he wasn't too cold. The snow reflected the sunlight in an almost blinding brightness, but Arthur just squinted his eyes and kept looking around – although there was nothing interesting to look at.

Suddenly the door flew open behind him and Arthur almost dropped his toothbrush to the startled yelp from the man behind him. Arthur turned around and regretted the sudden movement right away. His headache roared up momentarily and he had to screw his eyes shut and massage his temple to force the pain down. In consequence he bit down on his toothbrush and got a nice swig of toothpaste onto his tongue.

Arthur moved back over to the sink, took the toothbrush out of his mouth and spit out most of the toothpaste from his mouth.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, only glancing up at the other man for a split second before he continued to rinse his mouth with water.

“Morning,” was the stiff reply. Silence surrounded them and the chilly air drifting in from outside suddenly felt way more present.

Arthur still didn't know what to say to porch-man, but the longer this silence dragged on the more awkward it felt. After washing his face thoroughly to make sure there were no remains of toothpaste caught in his stubble, he cleared his throat and looked up.

“So... you slept well, yeah?” He said the first thing that came to his mind – and instantly wanted to take it back. Of course porch-man didn't sleep any better than Arthur himself, or he wouldn't be up already.

The other man just looked at him with one raised eyebrow and shuffled from one foot to the other. Arthur now noticed that he was wearing only a shirt and baggy tracksuit bottoms – no socks. On top of that, he still had wet hair and it was no wonder there were goose bumps all over his bare arms. Most striking were, however, his big ears. Last night they were hidden under the beanie, but now they stuck out very prominently.

Porch-man shifted back to his other leg trying to hide a shiver, but Arthur was watching him so intently, he noticed anyway. Realising he shouldn't stare like that, Arthur turned around and closed the window in order to have something to do. The stranger still looked rather out of place and shabby with his outgrown hair and dishevelled beard but...most of all he looked just lost.

Arthur had only taken a short look at the man's eyes. They were an astonishingly beautiful blue, but they also shone with so much emotion, that Arthur didn't want to keep looking at them.

“I didn't expect you to be up already,” porch-man said after another long, quiet moment.

Arthur wasn't sure what he tried to imply by that, so he chose to reply with the simple truth. “Yeah, me neither.”

What else was there to say anyway? He'd had trouble sleeping for weeks now, and had kind of hoped that the combination of alcohol and staying up all night would finally let him rest for more than a few hours. But no, apparently not. He would just take a nap later on – as soon as the headache subsided.

For now, however, he had enough of just standing there not talking to one another.

“I'm Arthur – in case you were wondering whose house you are invading.” He tried to lighten the mood by joking about the awkward situation they got themselves into, but porch-man didn't seem to catch on to that. He spluttered unintelligibly, then shook his head in a short, furious movement.

“Wha- no, I'm not-!” he tried again to defended himself, “You _literally_ pushed me inside against my own will!”

It was too funny to watch, really, and Arthur had no idea how he managed to hold back a grin when he asked innocently: “Oh, did I?”

For a split second, porch-man gaped at him in disbelief. Then he started in a rush of angry babbling Arthur didn't even try to comprehend. The general message was evident though, with the man pointing his forefinger accusingly at Arthur – over and over again.

“Calm down, _calm down_ ,” Arthur couldn't help laughing, and that shut up porch-man's rambling. Instead he creased his brows in confusion and Arthur decided to put him out of his misery. With a wide smile on his face he said: “I was only joking!”

He shook his head once – gladly noticing his head didn't roar up in pain at the movement – and added while starting to move towards the door and porch-man: “Take your time. I'll be downstairs preparing some breakfast, yeah?”

The man stepped out of his way as far as possible in the small room, but didn't reply. He threw Arthur a doubtful look and followed him with his gaze until he disappeared from view.

Arthur didn't mind getting weird looks. He probably deserved it right now. He was – contrary to earlier – aware that he was acting weird by letting the other stay at his house. Every other person would have either asked the stranger to leave by now, or just downright thrown them out.

Well, Arthur couldn't care less about what anyone else would or would not do in this kind of situation. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to help the other in at least _some_ way. And if that included to let him stay at a warm place for a few hours, and offer some food, then that's what Arthur would do.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he noticed that the entrance area had been tidied up. His coat hung with the others on the hall stand and his shoes – as well as his guest's – where put away on the rack. Arthur’s keys lay on the sideboard, instead of where he usually left them – in his coat pocket. But Arthur couldn’t even recall unlocking the door, not to mention retrieving the keys. Porch-man must have done all that.

He nodded to himself and headed on to the kitchen. There was an empty mug on the counter he couldn't remember leaving there. A teabag was still inside but the mug itself was cold to his touch. Arthur guessed porch-man had made himself a cuppa right after he got him to bed. Did porch-man sleep at all?

Arthur shook his head to himself to stop putting too much thought into it. It wasn't his concern after all. He just threw away the used teabag, and put the mug into the sink. Then he turned to his left, grabbed the electrical kettle and filled it with fresh water. He turned it on after setting it down on its base. While the water was heating up he moved to get a pot for the tea. He prepared it in well-versed motions and then set the table.

Afterwards he started to make a bunch of pancakes. Arthur didn't know what porch-man liked to eat, but Arthur hoped he would appreciate his homemade pancakes. Everyone loved them, even Morgana!

He was humming to himself while he prepared the batter and only put the bowl down for a short moment to pour the hot water into the prepared teapot. Just when he was about done with the first batch of pancakes he heard porch-man walking down the staircase. Arthur turned a short moment later and saw the man standing right outside the kitchen door, ogling him with suspicion. He had put on an additional hoodie and some fluffy – again mismatching – socks.

Arthur smiled back at him in a – hopefully – reassuring way. “Perfect timing – the first batch is just finished,” he said, and made a show of placing the pancakes on a plate. “You like maple syrup with it, or something else?”

When he put down the plate on the table and moved back to the stove, porch-man entered the room in hesitant steps. Arthur smiled to himself until the man said: “Uhm, I can't eat normal pancakes. I'm lactose-intolerant.”

Arthur frowned down at the second batch currently sizzling in the pan. Well, crap.

He turned to the fridge, suppressing a sigh, and scanned it for anything else he could offer to eat. “There are some leftovers from yesterday. Chicken legs and some rice... I could heat it up.” He turned around and smiled at his guest in confidence, but when he saw the scowl on porch-man's face it faded again.

“I'm vegetarian,” was all he said and Arthur had to take a deep breath to not roll his eyes. Of _bloody_ course he was.

He threw his hands up over his head in defeat and stepped back from the fridge. “I give up! Just take a look in the fridge and eat whatever suits you,” he said, and got back to the stove to turn the pancakes. He would just finish baking them all, and put the leftovers in the fridge for later.

 

In the end, porch-man sat down with some fried eggs and the rice from yesterday's lunch. He had given Arthur weird looks after not finding any bread or toast, but didn't say anything. He did make sure it was okay to take the last three eggs, though, and Arthur couldn't hold back an eye-roll this time. He took the eggs from the fridge wordlessly and prepared them.

Now they sat opposite of each other at the kitchen table eating their respective breakfasts. Arthur's headache had gone down almost entirely, and he started feeling sleepy instead. He appreciated the silence surrounding them, and only glanced at porch-man ever now and then. Still, he noticed that porch-man held himself rather stiffly and distant. He wasn't comfortable being here – despite Arthur trying his best to be a good host – and he didn't know what exactly he should do to change that. Wasn't what he'd already done more than enough?

Thinking hard, Arthur only pushed his last bite of food around his plate, glancing up more and more often. He still barely dared to look porch-man straight in the eyes because they emitted such huge amounts of sadness, anxiety, and most of all a pure lack of perspective. He didn't even know it was possible to see all that in someone's eyes, but apparently it was. And Arthur couldn't help the feeling of protectiveness rising inside of him.

On top of that – he noticed with disapproval – porch-man had eaten up everything to the last grain of rice in no time. He must have been extremely hungry, or, most likely, still was. Arthur knew he didn't have much else at the ready, but there was a train station with a tesco metro not too far away. Or they could just order in.

He was aware, that he shouldn't plan on letting this stranger stay at his house any longer than necessary, but who defined how long that was anyway?

Nodding once to himself, he leant back in his chair and looked around – everywhere but porch-man – and said: “Well, the guest room is all yours. I'm sure you already found your way around most of the rest of the house, but in case you want to do your laundry: I keep the detergent in the cupboard under the stairs – don't use too much though – and in the back garden-”

“What are you talking about?” porch-man interrupted him, and Arthur finally looked at him with uncertainty. He was greeted with furrowed eyebrows and a huge amount of irritation. Porch-man had pushed back from the table and looked like he was about to get up and run away any moment.

Arthur sighed, and internally questioned porch-man's mental capacity.

“It _means_ ,” he explained in a calm manner, “that your year was apparently a lot worse than mine – and, trust me, that is saying something because mine was shit. _And_ it means that no one should be left alone with that much shit going on in their lives.”

Porch-man just stared at him in evident disbelief. When he didn't show any other reaction after a long moment, Arthur rolled his eyes at him and added in a more harsh voice: “Oh for- I just want to help you, is that _really_ so hard to get or are you actually that slow on the uptake?”

That shook the other man out of his stupor, and he frowned at Arthur instead.

“I don't need help from some posh prat!” he exclaimed, and pushed himself up with his hands on the table, leaning towards Arthur.

It was a bit intimidating to have this wildly bearded, furious looking man glare down at him, but Arthur didn't let it show. He leant back in a casual manner and crossed his arm. “Well, I don't think you have much of a choice, do you?”

The pure outrage on porch-man's face was almost comical. Almost. Arthur realised too late that he should have been a bit more sensitive. He had, after all, already found out that the man wasn't prone to just accepting any offered help. Considering his huge distrust towards Arthur, it was most likely due to some bad experience.

“Of course I have a choice!” he shouted, and was about to rant on when Arthur help up is hands in a placating gesture. He considered apologising, but decided against it. He was kind of right after all. No matter if porch-man wanted to admit it or not – he needed the help. Especially with the current weather.

“Yeah, the choice to either freeze to death out there or not,” he chose to say, and added with sarcasm: “Hard decision to make, I get it.”

“No, you don't get anything!” was the instant reply, and porch-man actually slapped his flat hand onto the table to underline his statement.

“Exactly!” Arthur started to get really annoyed and his head began to hurt again from all the loud noise. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. It didn't help. He looked up straight at porch-man's eyes when he continued: “What is your bloody problem? I didn't even ask anything of you. Fuck, I don't even know your name! All I want to do is help you!”

Porch-man huffed in disbelieve and stood up straighter. He mimicked Arthur's crossed arms and raised an eyebrow, but replied in a calmer voice.

“And I'm supposed to accept that some stranger's offering me to stay at his house, just like that? Yeah, right. Never heard of stranger danger, did I?”

Well, Arthur had to admit, he had a point. If this was about anyone other than Arthur himself he would have vigorously agreed. But it _was_ about Arthur, and deceiving someone else was the last thing on his mind. Especially not porch-man.

“Oh, trust me, if something like _that_ was my plan you'd already be chained up in the dungeon,” he said, and pushed back from the table to get up. They had stopped eating a while ago and he needed something to distract himself. Cleaning up the table was a good call for something to do. On top of that he was getting more and more sleepy – despite the whole argument going on. Considering how little he had slept that was no surprise, though.

“You have a _dungeon_ in your basement?!” porch-man exclaimed behind him, and Arthur almost dropped the plates in frustration over the sheer naivety. How someone could be so mistrusting and naive at the same time was beyond him.

“Bloody-,” he started but broke off and shook his head instead. He placed the dirty dishes into the sink and took a deep breath before turning around to face porch-man again. “I'm too hangover for this. Just make yourself at home. Or don't. I don't give a fuck. Keep sleeping in my porch if that's what you prefer, I won't send you away or force you inside or whatever. Just, shut up.”

He walked back to the table and sat down again. Yawning wide, he poured himself another cup of tea and noted the pot was almost empty. He added sugar and milk, and, while affecting patience he didn't have, waited for the other man to react. Arthur hoped he would choose to finally accept his offer, but if not, he wouldn't force himself onto him. If he preferred to be homeless, that was his free choice to make – no matter how little Arthur liked that thought.

It stayed quiet for a few minutes, and Arthur sipped on his tea with his eyes drooping closed more often than not. He was almost falling asleep with his arms and forehead resting on the table when porch-man spoke up again.

“You were joking about the dungeon, weren't you?”

Arthur lifted his head and stared at him in irritation. It took him a few seconds to catch up to his question but as soon as he did he sat up straight again and frowned.

“Of course! It's called sarcasm. Ever heard of _that_?” he asked back in a harsh tone. He couldn't believe porch-man actually took his sarcastic remark about a dungeon seriously. He was ready to continue to berate him in outrage, when he noticed the small smile on porch-man's face.

He leant back in his chair and pouted up at him. Porch-man still stood next to the table, but in a more relaxed way than earlier. In return to the pout a small laugh elicited from porch-man and Arthur had to try hard not to join in. The man had a really nice laugh, he noted.

“Merlin, my name's Merlin,” he said in a shy voice and scratched his left elbow nervously. He held Arthur's gaze though, and when Arthur smiled and nodded at him in approval, Merlin's smile widened.

After a short moment Arthur stretched his arms over his head and yawned again. Then he laid his arms and head back down onto the kitchen table and made himself comfortable.

“Good. Now: Shut up, Merlin. I'm trying to take a nap here.”

 

~*~

 

In the end Arthur fell asleep right then and there on the kitchen table, but not for long. As offered, Merlin wanted to use the washing machine sometime before noon. That in itself wasn't a problem. Arthur would have just moved over into the living room, after preparing them a fresh pot of tea.

Merlin didn't, however, listen to Arthur's advice not to use too much detergent, and ended up flooding half of the kitchen, and Arthur suddenly found himself standing in a huge puddle.

Arthur's washing machine was old and moody, but worked fine if you knew how to operate it. Maybe he should have clarified what exactly “too much detergent” was – not that Arthur would admit that aloud.

After a short argument they cleaned up the mess together.

Now that Arthur’s socks were soaked, and he needed to change at least them anyway, he decided to go back upstairs. He took a long overdue shower and got changed into more comfortable clothes. When he walked back downstairs, he found Merlin in the kitchen nursing yet another cup of tea. Arthur shooed him into the living room and turned on the TV.

They spent most of the remaining day right there. Arthur lay on the couch under his favourite blanket and drifted off most of the time. Merlin sat on the floor in front of the couch, watched TV in silence, and ordered them some food online – after Arthur insisted multiple times that he was too tired to do it.

Merlin didn't need to know Arthur just wanted to make sure Merlin would get something to eat he actually liked.

 

In the evening they both sat on the couch with some leftovers from their takeaway and freshly brewed tea. The telly showed some mindless programme that went over last year's events and whatnot, but Arthur didn't pay it much attention. He was more focused on talking to Merlin, or rather listening to him. Not that he was telling Arthur anything important about himself, but it was still interesting to hear about Merlin's dislike for certain TV shows or his excitement about some new musical.

On top of that Arthur found out that Merlin only had been homeless for a couple of weeks. He wouldn't tell Arthur why he ended up on the streets in the first place – and Arthur wasn't going to pry. Right now, both of them preferred to talk about casual nonsense. It almost felt as natural as talking to an old friend he just hadn't seen in a long time.

Arthur hoped they could form an actual friendship like that over time. The thought in itself wasn't surprising to him. He'd always either liked someone from the start and formed strong bonds, or never learned to get along with them. Merlin – as irritating as he could be – had managed to be part of the first group.

Of course Arthur was aware that they would argue a lot in the future, too. But most of all he could see great potential for a lasting friendship.

“You're very strange… One moment you offer me help, the next you're insulting me,” Merlin said after a longer pause. He looked at Arthur with curiosity, but also some amount of remaining mistrust.

Arthur wasn't sure how to reply. He had realised quickly throughout the day that direct offers of help didn't get him far. Merlin was too proud to accept it. So he started to act more nonchalantly about it. Wrapped his offers in fake insults. And it worked – Merlin did accept the offer to stay at Arthur's house for a little while. Arthur had made him order food for both of them, and after some extra jabbing, Merlin chose more expensive food for himself to “pay Arthur back for being so rude.”

In short: It worked in Arthur's favour. He wasn't going to let that slip, though.

“It's not insulting if it's the truth,” he replied after some musing, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Yes, it is!” Merlin glared at him for a moment, but then turned away and pretended to focus on the telly. Arthur did notice the small smile forming around his lips, and wasn't bothered to say anything in return.

They sat in silence for a long moment and Arthur thought about getting up and calling it a night – he would have to go to work in the morning and had a busy day ahead. Yet, before going to bed he wanted to clarify one more thing: “So you've decided to stay then?”

Merlin turned to look at him in surprise. He sighed silently and then let his gaze wander over the whole room and leant back against the couch. “Well, you have a really good DVD collection,” he stated with a small shrug. “And – despite how rude you are – you actually seem okay. I think...I'll stay for a bit – just as long as it takes me to find a job and pay for a place for myself! But, yeah. You were right, I _do_ need a bit of help right now...”

While talking, he had turned to look at the coffee table in front of them and now leant forward to refill both their mugs with tea. He was shaking ever so slightly in nervousness but Arthur chose not to comment on it.

“I'm always right,” he stated mater-of-factly instead, and got a snorting laugh in return.

Merlin turned to look at him from the corner of his eyes and added: “Just keep telling that to yourself~”

“Oi!” Arthur exclaimed in fake outrage. He was smiling broadly at the same time, and Merlin just laughed some more at him before handing Arthur his mug of tea. Arthur thanked him with a short nod and took a sip while Merlin leant back again with his own cup in his hands.

He took a sip himself and then turned to look at Arthur.

“But seriously: Thank you,” he said with a shy smile on his face. Arthur was sure he would see a blush too, if there wasn't so much facial hair to conceal it.

“You don't have to do this, you know?” Merlin continued to ramble, “and if you change your mind in a few-”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Y-yeah?”

“You're welcome,” Arthur said, an honest smile on his face, and held up his mug in a cheering gesture. “To a better year ahead!” he proclaimed. He knew there were still a lot of things they had to figure out and it wouldn't be an easy year. But somehow Arthur knew he – no _they_ – would manage and make it a great year.

“To a better year,” Merlin replied and clinked his mug against Arthur's. Both drank a generous gulp of tea, took a look at each other and burst into laughter. Yep, definitely going to be a good year, Arthur decided.

After calming down and turning his attention back to the telly, Arthur said with finality: “And now: Let's relax and enjoy this horrendous programme!”

Merlin laughed once again and shook his head. “Never!” he said after he managed to hold back his laughter, still smiling. Then he made himself more comfortable on the couch and closed his eyes for a long moment.

And Arthur knew: If this was what the time ahead looked like, he wasn't going to complain.

 

~*~ _one year later_ ~*~

 

Morgana's New Year's party was a huge success, just like every year.

All of their friends had gathered in her flat, and everyone was having a great time. Arthur stood next to the counter separating the open kitchen area from the living room and let his gaze wander. He smiled the whole time, and couldn't help the giddy feeling of happiness in his stomach – besides not even having drunk any alcohol yet.

They had only arrived a few minutes ago, and Merlin was currently getting them some drinks. Knowing Merlin that meant he made sure to add some extra amount of alcohol for Arthur so Merlin wouldn't look like too much of a lightweight next to him. Not that Arthur was complaining. He knew his limits. Especially since he had Merlin around and had to make sure _he_ didn't get too drunk.

He could still recall that first – and so far only – time he hadn't paid attention and ended up spending the whole night next to Merlin throwing up into a bucket. Certainly not one of their best memories from the last year.

Just then, he felt Merlin step up next to him, handing over a mug of steaming tea. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him in question but took the offered drink nonetheless. At the same time he sneaked his free hand around Merlin's waist to hold him close.

Merlin placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Sometimes Arthur missed Merlin's full beard – he looked a lot better with it, for once. While kissing, however, he preferred him clean shaved, like he was right now.

Arthur turned his head slightly to make it a proper kiss before Merlin pulled back.

Merlin leant his full weight against him and turned to take a look around as well. A pleased smile on his face, Arthur cuddled in close, leant his head against Merlin's, and said: “It really has been a good year.”

Merlin hummed in approval and after a moment he turned his face to nuzzle his nose into Arthur's cheek. Arthur groaned in fake annoyance but didn't make to move away in the slightest.

“And we have another great year ahead,” Merlin said and held up his mug in front of them. Arthur clinked his own mug against it – careful not to spill any tea – and took a big gulp. He almost snorted it out again in laughter. The tea tasted more of rum than tea itself. He could feel Merlin suppressing a giggle of his own, but before he could say anything, Gwaine approached them.

“You can get back to that later, lovebirds! Now it's _party game time!_ ” He dragged them further into the room, and with one last kiss to Merlin's cheek, Arthur let go of his waist. They would end up close together sooner rather then later anyway – he knew from experience.


End file.
